Can I Have Her
by xmindset
Summary: Troy Bolton wants to take Gabriella Montez to Winter Formal so badly. But Gabriella's feelings of hatred toward him are getting in the way. Troy is on a mission. "Look at that girl. Look at her. I want her for Christmas." Oneshot. TxG


**AN**: Once again, so much better in my head. It's a bit sketchy. I wrote in very colloquial language. This was supposed to be a Christmas Oneshot but I have been extremely busy lately. Technically, it's still Christmas until January 6th! Happy New Year, everyone! Consider this your New Year's present. Here's to 2012.

Rated T for excessive profanity and some sexual references. Enjoy.

**Can I Have Her**

Gabriella Montez absolutely, without a doubt hates...

No. Excuse me.

LOATHES my ass.

I'm not exactly sure if that's a good or bad thing. I am quite amused by it. _Yeah_, I _am_. She is so damn cute when she's all fired up and shit. It's kinda hot. _Really_ hot. Hah.

I'm not exactly sure why she hates me. I guess it's because I come off as a cocky guy. Well, I am captain of the varsity basketball team. I do get all the pretty cheerleaders and girls, in general. I do take advantage of all the perks that come with being king of the school and all.. That's probably why. In the words of Gretchen Weiners, "I'm sorry that people are so jealous of me... but I can't help it that I'm so popular." That movie is fucking hilarious even if it is a chick movie. Who doesn't quote that shit?

Whoa. Back on track—so.. Where was I? Oh yeah. I was just about to talk about Montez. Well, Gabriella Montez is this pint-sized, cute nerd who is president of the geek club and shit. Ahem. Let me rephrase that. After all, reader, you must get good vibes from your narrator. I must maintain my regal reputation as King of East High. You must know, I am a straight A student. Well, almost. I hate history, okay. It's not my fault Ms. R is _not_ very entertaining. The woman can't teach.

Anyway..Gabriella Montez is president of the National Honor Society, treasurer of Culture Club and avid member of nearly every club at school. She's a qualified, official genius and perfect goody-two-shoes girl. But she's got this magnetic personality and is an acquaintance to really everyone. She's smart and sweet and kinda perfect. Okay.. _Really_ perfect.

But there's one side of Gabriella that no one can ever expose, except for yours truly. Wink. She's feisty. So fucking feisty. If someone gets on her bad side, that person will never see her good light again. That's me. Queue Troy's winning smile. Like I said, she loathes my ass. She despises me. And I'm loving every frickin' second of it, baby.

* * *

><p>It's Monday morning. The dreaded alarm clock awakens me followed by the annoying buzz of the radio exclaiming, "Goooood Morning, Albuquerque! Today's weather is chilling to the bone..<em>yadda yadda yadda<em>.." I hit the shower, gulp down my mom's beloved banana pancakes, grab a Sunny D from the Sub Zero and speed away to school in my BMW beauty.

I arrive at school early, park my car, check for scratches and enter the halls of my kingdom. I slap a few hands and respond to the ever-cheerful "Hey Troy!"s. I head to my locker which is five lockers down from my "biggest fan". Wink. She's at her locker too, arranging some books and filling her bag with others.

"Good morning, sunshine. How's your morning going?" I smirk, looking into my locker and avoiding her gaze.

"Well, it's not a sunny morning anymore," she mutters. _Adorable_.

"Aw. What can I do to make it better, sweetheart?" I mockingly ask, leaning the side of my body against a locker.

"Just stay out of my life, Bolton," she retorts monotonously. She lets out a breath and closes her locker

I glance back as she walks away slowly. Something is bothering my angel. Poor baby. Usually, she's a lot fiery in the morning. She usually has a lot of energy to make sarcastic, caustic comebacks. I wonder what's wrong. _Dun dun dun-nah_. Time to gear into James Bond mode. Agent 007. Gonna do some spying today, baby. _Aw yee_.

To Montez's friends. Let's go.

* * *

><p>I'm hiding behind the corner of a hallway. Her best friends Sharpay, a theater geek, and Taylor, a pedantic nerd, converse about unnecessary girly things, that will not be mentioned, until Gabriella approaches them.<p>

"Hey Gabi! oh..Why the long face? You look kind of tired," Sharpay asks.

"Cuz that's what every girl wants to hear in the morning. I love you, oh best friend," Gabriella utters in mere sarcasm. I chuckle silently to myself.

"Sorry. I was just being honest. Seriously," Sharpay pats her shoulder, "what's bothering my little skylark?"

"It's just that.. I don't know. I guess I'm just experiencing some stupid hormonal, emotional bullshit right now."

Now it's Taylor's turn to butt in, "What do you mean?"

"I don't have a date for Winter Formal. You two have boyfriends..Life's just a reminding me I'll end up forever alone. And it's not that I need a man, 'cause I don't. I just.. I don't know."

"Cheer up, Gabi. I'm sure Mr. Right will come soon to ask you," the flamboyant blondie smiled.

"It's not your fault that Winter Formal was rescheduled so early this year. It's barely even winter," Taylor added, "and the dance is the day before Christmas Eve."

"..I'll be at homeroom if you need me," Gabriella replied somberly.

My angel needs a date. Hmmm. Well. _I_ can't ask her. She'll threaten me or something.. Plus, she hates my guts. I'd personally love to go to the dance with her. If only she didn't loathe me. _Sigh_. I'll find a way. I gotta.

I watched her trudge down the hallway. I quickly followed her but not too closely. Don't wanna seem like a stalker. Damn, she walks fast. And she's got a cute little behind. Haha. Only in homeroom did I get a chance to examine her attire. She wore dark wash jeans and cream-colored layered top with a light gray blazer. She strutted on the mint green tiles with knee-high suede boots. _Classy_. I like that.

She went around the room to talk to many of her friends and then spoke to Darbus about something. I just sat at my desk and put my head down to pretend I was sleeping. I actually had a good sleep last night. I closed my eyes just enough so I could still spy on her. She is just so fucking adorably sexy. Can I have her? _Please_.

Shit. Here she comes. Pretend you're sleeping, Troy. Breathe silently. She leans over me causing the pearls of her necklace to graze my shoulder. She lets out a discreet snicker.

"Aw Troy, are you tired? You must have been so _busy_ last night."

"Nah. I didn't do any screwing last night," I open one eye, "if that's what you want to know, Montez."

"Good. You're trying to be _decent_ for once," She grinned scornfully.

I sat up straight, stretching my arms. I still had to keep up the sleepy mask. "Do I smell jealousy, sweetheart?"

"Why would I feel jealous of you?" she snapped back.

"No. You're jealous of the girls I've been with," I smirked. She's getting heated up now.

She scoffed and narrowed her eyebrows. "Don't even give me that. You're disgusting."

"Oh come on. You know you _want_ me. I know I wouldn't mind it at all...if you were _my_ dominatrix. That's _fucking_ hot."

Her cheeks turned increasingly turning crimson but her expression was still furious. Yeah. I _definitely_ wouldn't mind.

She rolled her eyes and spat quietly, "What the fuck? I don't.. I..I" My smirk was getting wider and wider as she stuttered. Then, she gave me the finger but only I could see it. Some of my classmates scanned us briefly but turned away. They knew we were sworn enemies. We argue all the time. I pick the fights. I just _love_ to bicker with her. BUT I like to call our arguments _sexual tension_.

My eyebrows raised. I was entertained. Then I took her middle finger and kissed the fingertip while still looking her straight in the eye. Her mouth fell open for a fraction of a second. Then, she swiftly pulled her finger away in fury and marched out of the classroom. I just reclined at my desk and put my arms behind my head. I won Round 1 of today. My opponent forfeit. Haha. She _wants_ me.

* * *

><p>It's lunchtime. My favorite time of the day. What? I'm a growing boy. I need my food. Ella has been throwing daggers at me through her eyes all day. I leer back at her. All of a sudden, I feel a light tap on my shoulder. <em>Ugh, cheerleader<em>.

"Hi Troy," Heather titters. She's trying way too hard to be sexy. _Fuck off, bitch_. I was trying to stare down Montez.

"Hi," I mutter, avoiding her gaze.

"Did you ask anyone to Winter Formal yet?" she asks in her peppy cheerleader voice.

I press my thumb and index finger to the bridge of my nose, "Not yet."

"Well, I'm available," she bats her eyelashes at me.

"And?" I mentally roll my eyes.

"Maybe you should ask me."

"No," I answer bluntly.

She frowns angrily, "Why not?"

"I don't want to go with you, Heather. That's all," I simply state, "Now leave."

"But—"

I cut in, "Ah ah ah. _No_," I give her a blank stare.

"Fine. Whatever," she crosses her arms and flounces in the other direction. _Finally_.

Never fucked her. Never will. That slut has been with too many guys on my team. I will certainly not be the next victim. That's ugh. _Nasty_. I turn my gaze to Gabriella again. Her face lights up as she chats with her friends. I wish her and I could have a normal conversation for once. But I'm just having too much fun pissing her off. One day, we will. I know it.

Gabriella tosses her hair to one side. She's so fucking gorgeous. I mean, look at that girl. Look at her. I want _her_ for Christmas. I have everything else I want. I just can't seem to pry her into my arms. We've gone to the same school since Pre-Kindergarten. I didn't start getting on her nerves until about sixth grade. I just felt like it one day. I guess that's when my hormones started kicking in. We've always lived three houses down from each other. Our moms are best friends. We're _perfect_ for each other.

I just can't seem to control myself when I'm around her. The only things that come out of my throat are crude remarks and perverted comments. I can't help it. I just get tongue-tied when she comes my way. I'm not myself when I'm around her. It's bad. I know. Usually, I can sweet talk any lady I want. I just can't when it comes to Gabriella Montez. But _she's_ the one I want.

I must have her. No doubt about it. I've wanted her for a while now. I just want her to linger in my bed —but not in a sexual way. Not yet. I want to run my hands through those ebony locks and laugh with her. I want her to smile at me—not scowl at me. I want to be able to throw her over my shoulder and evoke a glorious sound from her throat—not a "Bolton! Get your filthy hands off of me. Put me fucking down!" It'll happen. Just you wait. I need her.

She turns me on. She doesn't even have to try. She's effortlessly sexy. And she doesn't even know what she does to me. Because she's intelligent, we're on the same wavelength. I'll be able to have scholarly conversations with her. Intelligence is a definite turn-on. No guy wants to talk to a fucking doorknob. Only assholes who just want to get with you. That's a different story.

I'm not a player, if that's what you think. I just act like a dumbass sometimes. Don't we all? In fact, I try to stay away from girls, especially girls like Heather. Get your chlamydia away from me! Seriously. That's what I heard. Ever since I was ten, my mom told me, "Troy, stay away from girls. They're nothing but trouble," with a stern look on her face. I always nodded, "Yes, mother" with a slight roll of my eyes. I had to learn the hard way. Girls can be just as mean as guys. They will cheat on you and lie to you just the same. But with Gabriella, it's different.

My mom would always want me to play with Gabriella when I was a kid. I didn't really want to, to be honest. But whenever my family and I visit the Montezes, my mom encourages me to converse with Gabriella. My mom and Ms. Montez always want to set me up with her. I never really minded but she did. When high school came along, I didn't mind sitting at the dinner table next to her. But her eyes never met mine. She just didn't like me, ever since I started writing on her homework in sixth grade. She used to pinch me in literature class because I wrote "Troy was here" on all her stuff. Good times.

I never been able to interact with Ella on a friendly basis.

I've been quiet this whole time while eating my cheeseburger and thinking. I snap out of my reverie. My teammates are looking at me weirdly.

"You okay, Troy?" my most trusted best friend Chad asks.

"Yeah. I'm aight. Just thinking about stuff," I make a simple reply.

Chad nods. "Hey guys. Aren't you hyped? The new season is starting on Christmas Day. Celtics are playing against the Knicks..."

Chad blabbers on to Zeke, Jason and the others while I look at Ella again. _Fuck_. Landon Summers just went up to her. He's striker of the soccer team. He's decent. Some ladies swoon over his dark, spiked hair and green eyes. Eh. He's not a bad guy. He better not be asking Gabriella to the dance. Baby, please say no. Please say no. PLEASE.

He taps her shoulder and then smiles at her. He says something I can't hear over the bustle of the cafeteria. She gives him a weak smile back. It looks like her consolation smile. He mirrors her weak smile and soon walks away. Defeated. YES! It's still open season. I'm gonna catch that motherfucker after lunch. I stuff some fries in my mouth and gulp down my Pepsi. No one will steal her from me. No way. Not a chance.

The bell rings. It's go time.

* * *

><p>I work my way through the corridor. Must find Summers. Scare him off. Tell him what's going down. I won't beat him up. Just threaten him. That's all.<p>

Wherever I walk, the sea of students magically parts for me. King status. It's like I have all the power in my single fingertip. Fuck yeah. Use your power for good, Bolton. You need to get your queen first. Then, everything will fall into place.

It'll be all worth it in the end. I just have to scare or confront every bastard that goes up to her. They can't have her. She's mine. _All mine_. Even if she doesn't know it yet. She loves me way deep down in the depths of her soul. Somewhere deep down, she wants me as much as I want her. I mean, look at me. I'm awesome. I have it all. I just need the girl. Not _a_ girl. _The_ girl.

Summers. Summers. Summers. My eyes scrutinize the lockers as I continue sauntering. Summers. Sum—Aha. Got him.

"'Sup, Summers?" I say casually.

He glances at me from looking inside his locker, "Oh. Hey, Troy," he turns and we slap hands, "How's the season coming along?"

"Great. Just great. Thanks for asking," I genuinely half-smile.

"So..." he shakes his head nonchalantly, "What do you want?"

"Ah. Nothing really. Just wondering...Um. Did you ask Montez to Winter Formal?" my eyes shift about.

"Yeah. I did," he replies indifferently.

"And?..." my eyes grow a little wider.

He lets out a lackadaisical sigh, "She said no. Something about not being sure whether she's going or not."

"Oh. All right."

He turns to me with a jeering face, "Why? _You_ wanna ask her?"

I straighten up and put on a straight face, "Yeah. I do."

He stuffs some textbooks into his backpack. "What makes you think she'll say yes _to_ _you_?"

"Fuck off, Summers. It's not your business about whatever happens between me and Montez."

He narrows his eyebrows in disbelief. He thinks he's better than me. The _cunt_. "Oh please, Troy. She'd spit on your grave. I finally have a better chance at something than you for once."

"What does that supposed to fucking mean?" I mumble irately.

"Nothing, man.. Listen, I gotta get to class so—"

I grab his shoulders before he gets a chance to finish his sentence and push him up against the lockers. He's about my height but he's not as built so he's pretty light.

"Yeah. I gotta get to class too. But just know this. No. Swallow this. Stay the fuck away from Gabriella. It's better that she goes alone than with a shithead like you. Okay. I'm planning on taking her. All right... We clear, Summers?"

He faintly grins back, "Crystal, Bolton.. I was planning on taking Jamie anyway so no worries." I let the jackass go and then sprinted to class. Fuck. It's in the north wing. Time to take a shortcut. Woo!

* * *

><p><em>3 days later...<em>

_So.. _It's Thursday night now. And son, am I worn out from chasing suckers trying to ask Brie out! She attracts males of all sorts. I had to threaten guys ranging from nerds to quarterbacks. By the way, do you like the new nickname for her. I create a new one every week or so. Haha. It's not my fault she's so attractive. I don't blame them. They've got good taste. Meanwhile, I've been denying every frickin' skunkbag who throws herself at me. It's harder than you think. They're like fucking leeches. And let me tell you, Ella is looking stunning in that cute dress today. God, the things she does to me.

Tomorrow night's the dance. With all this work, I don't know when I'll have the chance to ask her. Shit. Please say yes. For me, babe. I need you ...to say yes. I love you so much.

Wait. Hold up. Did I just think that? Well... it has been several years and... _Fuck_. I think like a chick sometimes. I don't know. Maybe I do. Maybe I'm in love with the idea that I want to love her. The fuck. Does that even make sense?

Oh shit. Here she comes. I'm in the corner of the hallway again, spying.

"I don't think I should go, ladies," she states, "_Mr. Right_ hasn't asked me. I'll be all right. I'll read a book or watch a movie or something else."

"No, Gabi. Come with us. Sure, you'll be a fifth wheel but who cares? Just have fun. It's your Friday!" Taylor attempts to be cheerful.

"Come with, Gabs. You still have that dress that you bought last month with us at the mall. It looks _uh-mazing_ on you. Please wear it," Sharpay whines.

"All right," she gives in hoeplessly, "But I'll look stupid, alone."

"Not with that dress, you won't. Every guy will be on their knees, wishing they asked you. Own it," Sharpay remarked.

Yessss. She's going alone. Phase One: accomplished. All right. I should consider becoming Secret Service or a CIA agent. But then I'll have to learn like 10 languages. Never mind. That dream's not happening.

* * *

><p>I've been doing all this thinking while popping J's in my backyard. There goes another swish. Ugh. I hate it when sweat stings my eyes. <em>Motherfucker<em>.

"Troy!" my dad yells from the backyard porch, "Shower up. Your mother is making steak and potatoes. You better hurry up if there'll be anything left once I'm done with them."

"Coming!" I shout back. Food. Yes. One of the four F's drives regulated by my hypothalamus is about to be met. You know. Fight, flee, _feed_, fuck. So hungry. Hungry. Hungry. Hungry.

* * *

><p>Here I am after dinner. Staring at the ceiling. Wearing some plaid pajama pants. I didn't bother to put on a shirt. In my room. Bored. Tired. But mostly bored. I wonder what Gabriella Montez is doing right at this second. I wonder how she would look like naked...<p>

All right. _Fuck you_, penis. _Whatthefuck_ is wrong with you? Why must my mind always drift to dirty thoughts? Fuck you, hormones. Why can't I think of Gabriella's beauty when she's not naked. Ugh. There it goes again. Psh. I can't help it. I'm seventeen. It is only of my nature.

My hand wandered around on my bedside table until it reached my iPod dock remote. I blasted the speakers until the whole neighborhood could hear the beats of Drake and Eminem. Fuck my life. Why can't I have Gabriella Montez? Why couldn't I get her in freshman year? I am the answer. I've been holding myself back. I've been too much of an asshole. Smh.

I need that girl in my life. I can't take it anymore. I have to put an end to all this agony. I grabbed my iPhone from my dresser and texted Zeke.

"I need Sharpay's #," I typed on the touch screen.

"Wut? Y do u want my gf's #?" he replied rather quickly.

"I need 2 ask her somethin," my fingers shook. I lied.

"K. It's 345 567 7890," Zeke texted back.

Yes. I have an in. Gotta call Miss Malibu Barbie. She's going to try to question my motives. Fuck that. I need to get to my woman. I got this. I dialed her number and waited patiently. I could have just texted her. Shit. There's no going back now. I—

"Hello?" her sing-song voice chimes.

"Hey Shar. This is Troy," I mumble quickly, "I need you to do me a favor."

"What is it, Mr. Hotshot?" she asks curiously, "You should have a good reason for calling me at this fine hour. Let's see. 12:14 AM. What gives? I need my beauty sleep."

"I need to know what color Gabriella is wearing to Winter Formal. _Please_ don't tell her I asked. I need—"

"It's not white. That is, if you're planning to spill punch on her," she interrupts rudely.

I try to respond as calmly as possible, "_No_. It's not part of some practical joke. Okay? It's a surprise. I won't hurt her or anything. I promise."

Her voice gets quiet, "Fine. She's wearing navy."

_That's __one small step for__ a __man__, one __giant leap for mankind_. I try not to scream into the phone. "Thank you. Thank you. Thank you a million times, blondie," I sigh, "That's all I need to know."

"Yeah. Whatever. I'll be watching you tomorrow. Don't do anything that'll make me want to kick you in the balls," she hangs up. Hah. She said 'Whatever'. In other words, a woman's way of saying 'Fuck you'.

* * *

><p>After school on Friday, I rushed home to tell my mom to buy me some stuff at Lord and Taylor and at her friend's flower shop. I got my classic black blazer and dress pants ready along with a crisp white shirt. I lined up my cologne, deodorant, and other toiletries on the bathroom counter. I still had a lot of time before the dance. I guess... I'll take a nap.<p>

Within about three hours, I woke up. I still had a lot of time left. So I cleaned my room. I even made my bed. Damn. This girl is making me so nervous that I'm actually cleaning. This is so weird, man.

Several hours later, after my second nap, I jump into the shower and get all my shit together. I have to look my best. This will be the moment of truth.

* * *

><p>I pulled my car out of the driveway, barely making it out of my house alive. Mom butts into my business too much sometimes. It pisses me off. She kept demanding to know who's the girl I'm taking to the dance. I said <em>someone<em>. Then, she wouldn't stop asking. Oh, mother. I love you but what will I do with you?

I reach the venue on time and see that it has been transformed into a winter wonderland. _Nice_. Student Council did a good job. Not bad. Only about ten other people are there already. I get a glass from the table and ladle myself some punch. I guess Gabriella and her entourage will be a tad bit late. I'll wait for as long as it takes.

_One hour later..._

_Come. On_. Where is _she_? I'm starting to sweat a little now, not gonna lie. Don't tell me they purposely lied during their conversation. Was this a set-up? What did I do wrong? Where—? Never mind...Whoa. There she is. Queue commercial music. _Who's that lady, sexy lady? _I chuckle to myself. Oh Bolton, you card! But, seriously. She looks... Wow...

She's wearing a long dark navy strapless gown. She has long white pendant earrings. Her hair was gathered over one shoulder. Her beautiful ebony tendrils meander down over her collarbone and neckline. _Goddamn_, she's beautiful. _Sorry, God_. But look at her. Wow. Yeah. I need her under my Christmas tree. Or some mistletoe. No doubt about it.

She had a neutral expression on her face. She looks like a model. Can I have that girl? I don't care about any other girl. Just her. Just Gabriella Montez. Just Ella. She walks away to sit with her friends. _There goes my baby_. I'll just leave her alone for a bit. I don't want to scare her. She just got here. _But_ if some dude starts walking up to her. Oh hell no. She's mine, dick.

She smiles at her girly friends and their dates. I sit with my team and their ho—_I mean_ dates slash girlfriends. I just sit there staring at her. Smiling every other minute when she smiles or laughs. So beautiful. Not yet, Troy. In due time. Your time will come. Wait a little. Okay. _Shit_. I think she caught me staring at her. Quick! Look at your watch. Look at Chad. Look at the clock. 9:08 PM. All right. Maybe she's not looking at you anymore. Look at her again. _Shit_. She's still staring at you. Look down at your lap. Never mind. Let's go to the bathroom. Maybe some relief will calm my nerves. Yeah.

The food is finally served once I returned from the bathroom. Perfect timing. Eating doesn't take long but the food is good this year. Yes. Chicken is good this year. Yum. People start dancing after they eat. I'm pretty sure someone just spiked the punch. Aha. Stupid, Aaron. He'll probably get caught again.

I look in the direction of my babe. She's not staring at me anymore. Thank, God. But she's sitting alone at her table. Miss Hollywood and Miss Smartypants are dancing with their respective boyfriends. Now's my chance. It's now or never, Troy. You can do this. You got this. She won't say no. She can't possibly say no. You're Troy fucking Bolton. Don't act too cocky though. She hates that.

I get up and make my way toward her. She's leaning her chin on her palm. She looks so bored. Never fear, Troy is here. I pull up the chair next to her and sit down quietly.

"Hey, sexy. What's up?" I say calmly and casually.

She doesn't even look at me. Her lips remain in a straight line. "Go be a smartass somewhere else, Troy. Don't ruin my night," she says in a blasé tone.

"Ooooh. Harsh, babe," I snicker amusedly.

She finally turns her head to face me. "Shouldn't you be dancing with your date, _or _perhaps, _banging_ her in the men's room or something," she raises her left eyebrow.

"Nah. I don't have a date. I don't need one. I can have any girl I want with a snap of my fingers," I cockily simper while snapping my fingers in front of her face, "Like that."

She suppresses a laugh, "Cocky much?" I half-smile as she reveals a mere glimpse of her brilliant smile.

"Very much," I nod with a grin.

"But really," her body turns to face me, "Why are you here? Go dance."

"I could say the same to you, Montez," I try to make a serious face but my smile seeps through.

Her eyes drift down away from mine. Her eyebrows narrow. My eyes look to where she's looking. "We... match?" her statement sounds more like a question. She's looking at my solid dark navy tie. Hah. She noticed. Good thinking, Bolton.

"Hmm. I guess we do," I try not to make it seem obvious. Good job on picking out the tie, mom! We match _perfectly_. "Weird coincidence, huh?"

"Yeah," she says almost inaudibly. She still has a slight frown. _Cute_.

"So...how about a dance with me, Montez?" I try to say not-so-eagerly. Don't sound desperate, Troy. She could be onto you.

"Why are you being so nice to me, Bolton?" she suddenly flares up _oh-so-sexily_, "I don't need your pity. F.Y.I. I'm not anyone's second choice, so fuck off." _Hey! That's my line._

_Be calm, Troy. Don't go insane. _"Maybe I just want to be nice, okay. I'm not pitying you. Honest... I just wanted to dance with you. All right?" I say as relaxed as I can._ I knew _I shouldn't have been cocky. _I warned myself._ She hates that. Fuck, Troy. You messed it up. You didn't think this through.

She lets out a deep sigh. "Sorry, Troy," she looks at her sparkly black stilettos despondently, " I don't know what's wrong with me lately. I guess it's just that everyone seems to have someone but me. Look at Sharpay and Taylor. Don't they look happy?" she glances at them.

My eyes never leave her face. "Nothing's wrong with you. In fact, you look rather ravishing tonight," I try to smirk and wiggle my eyebrows to make her smile.

She throws her head back and releases a giggle. "Such a charmer, aren't you?" she bites her lip. I mentally wince. She _so_ damn adorable when she does that. _Jesus_. "Is this what you say to all your lady-friends? Hm? So they can willingly fall into your bed?"

I shake my head and faintly chuckle. "Nah. Only to you, babe."

She immediately stops laughing and gives my shoulder a light shove. "Well, it's working," she bites her lip again. You little minx. Excuse me—_my _little minx.

"Really?" I raise an eyebrow.

She bursts into a fit of laughter, "No."

I bite my lip to prevent my wide smile. I stay silent as she laughs. She looks down at her lap and laughs at it as if it's the funniest thing she's ever seen. I scoot to the edge of my seat, lean down, and tilt her chin up to face me. I close my eyes and lean forward to meet her lips with mine. My fingers graze over her neck. I kiss her slowly but as gently as possible. Her skin is so soft. And her lips... They taste like strawberry shortcake and vanilla and peppermint. Her soft lips taste _unreal_. She smells like vanilla too. And raspberry. And heaven. Holy shit... _So_ fucking good.

Her lips mingled with mine after a few seconds or so. _Gabriella Montez_ was actually kissing me back. Oh my God. I don't want to wake up. Fuck reality. I want to kiss her forever. And ever. Fuck. She's pulling back. Nooo—

A look of utter shock reads across her face. She's blushing. _Awww_...But her eyes are bulging out of her sockets. Her lips form a small 'O'. _Do I kiss badly?_ _Does my breath smell?_ It can't. I brushed my teeth for three whole minutes before I got here. I even flossed and used mouthwash. I weakly half-smile and run my thumb across her bottom lip. I flicker my stare from her eyes to her lips.

Her lips adjust into a simple, baby smile. I mirror it. _Bolton's still got it_. She leans in right away and captures my lips in hers. This time, with her arms around my neck and her hands playing with my hair. I _love_ that. She's practically in my lap now. I snake my arms around her petite waist... She drives me crazy. I can't help but smile into the kiss. Oh, babe. It's been much too long a wait.

We finally separate, in need of oxygen. She's breathless, as am I. But she beams brightly at me. I grin from ear to ear. My knuckles caress her waist. She leans her head on my shoulder. We're silent until she whispers into my collar after a minute, startling me.

"Why now, Troy?" she stares at my neck, "Why kiss me now?"

"Because I was too chicken to kiss you any earlier," I look tenderly down at her, "You don't know how long I've waited for the perfect moment to finally kiss you." I sigh through my nose.

"How long?" she smiles into my neck so I can't see her face.

"Since freshman year," I whisper into her ear.

I earn a slap on the chest for that reply. "You make me wait that long? And.. kiss me senior year?" she whines jokingly.

"I didn't know whether you'd like me back or not," I excuse myself.

"So you annoy the living hell out of me instead?" her soft voice giggles.

"Yes," I smirk. "It's a boy's way of telling a girl, he fancies her," I say in a British accent and briskly plant a kiss on the side of her neck. "Almost like how a seven-year-old throws a rock at a girl he likes."

She holds back a laugh, "Very mature, Troy."

"Psh, you loved it," I wink.

"Maybe I did," her eyes shift to look at a _very_ interesting ceiling.

"You did," I state.

A slow song is heard from the background. Suddenly, we're not in our own little world anymore. A finger rests over my lips. "No more talking," she breathes, "I want to dance with you."

"Yes," I curl my fist, "For a second there, I didn't think you'd say yes, after all."

"Come on," she stands elatedly and tugs on my arm.

My arms curl around her waist again. She plays with my hair as a sappy song keeps playing. I notice Landon dancing with Jamie and staring at me and Gabriella. I smirk cockily at him. He shakes his head.

"Who are you looking at?" her gentle voice speaks. Her head turns to look where I was looking at.

"Landon's envious of me and my girl. That's all."

"Your girl, huh?" she licks her lips and grins at me.

"Yes, Ella. _My_ girl," I whisper, relocating a stray strand of hair to behind her ear.

She snuggles up to my chest as her eyes close. "My girl. I could get used to the sound of that."

"Sweet," I kiss the top of her head,"I have to confess, though. You are _not_ easy to obtain."

Her head comes off of my chest. Her gaze meets mine again, "What do you mean?" she asks curiously.

"I had to get a lot of fuckers away from you," my eyes grow wide and blink a few times.

The sublime sound is evoked from her throat once again. "Huh?"

"I had to threaten Summers, Nevin Osgood, Seth Meyers, Ronald Weimar, Jake _Whatshisface_, Bill Johnson, Ryan Evans, a whole shitload of bastards—_even_ alcoholic Aaron... Only _I_ can have you. None of those assbags are worthy of you.," I ramble on a little too dramatically. It's the truth, babe. No lie.

She looks at me for like three long seconds in disbelief. Her mouth is gaping at me. Time to go in for the kill. I kiss her deliciousness while she laughs into it. I can hear a faint "stop, Troy" from her mouth. She doesn't want me to stop. Don't give me that. You know you love it. Wink.

"You're insane," she cracks up.

"I know," I say simply.

The song ends and I murmur, "Want to get out of here?"

"Oh yeah," she smiles. I grab her by the waist and whisk her into my arms. Her arms find their way around my neck again. And we ride away into the sunset—actually into the darkness... of the night... into my BMW.

* * *

><p>"Are you sure it's okay with your parents that I stay over? At this hour? Won't they be suspicious that we're might be uh...you know.." she asks timidly at my doorstep while I put the key in. My blazer is on her shoulders. I want her scent to linger on it so it can smell like her later.<p>

"Yeah," I nonchalantly reassure her. "My mom will be thrilled that I'm bringing _you_ home," I wink. "She and your mom have been trying to set us up for years."

Her cheeks are flushed. _Gorgeous_. "I'll have to call my mom first. Let her know I'm not coming home."

"She's three houses down. Re-lax, darling." I open the door.

"Troy!" my mother beckons, "You're home early. Why—Oh! Hi, Gabriella. How are you sweetheart?" She greets Gabriella and kisses her cheek.

"I'm fine, Mrs. Bolton," my baby answers genially.

"Mom, Gabriella was my date to Winter Formal. Now, you know. Okay?" I roll my eyes.

"Awwww," she coos, "You should've told me! I have to call Maria."

"I told you. It'd be cool," I mumble into Ella's ear, "Now let's go to my room before she notices." Ella giggles and takes my hand.

"Keep the door open!" mama bear yells as we storm up the staircase.

"Yeah, yeah!" I call back.

* * *

><p>Brie sits on my bed causing it to bounce an interval. I close my door quietly. I'm such a<em> bamf<em>.

"Someone's a rebel," she giggles in a sing-song voice. I kneel in front of her and take my blazer from her shoulders.

"You know it," I wink. She grabs my tie and reels me in closer.

"I guess it's fate that you and I happened to match," she glances at my tie bewilderedly.

"I kinda ...asked Sharpay what color you were planning to wear," I scratch the back of my neck.

"You did?" she asks breathlessly. She pecks my lips.

I nod, "And you," I touch the tip of her nose with my index finger, "totally bought it." I look at her wrist. "Holy shit!" I realize. I dig into my pocket for the box. "I forgot to give you your corsage."

"It's okay, Troy," she runs a hand through my hair.

"Here," I take the ivory rose from its box and slip the ribbon over her wrist.

"It's so beautiful," her eyes move from the flower to my eyes, "Trust me. It never went to waste."

I crash my lips onto hers again. I couldn't resist. I grab her waist and wrestle her onto the bed. She laughs uncontrollably as I try to shush her. "Shhhh," I cover her mouth. I untie my tie and begin to unbutton my shirt.

"Uh Troy... I don't really want to—"

"No no no. I don't want to get in your pants now. As tempting as that sounds. I just want to get these fucking uncomfortable clothes off," I get off the bed and search my dresser. I quickly take off my shirt and pants and put on clean sweatpants. I can hear her giggle as she watches me.

"You've got a sexy back," she mumbles.

"Huh?" I grin as I turn around and then put on a shirt. I heard her loud and clear.

"Nothing," she sits up and shrugs.

"Do _you_ wanna change?" I ask and wiggle my eyebrows suggestively.

"Yeah," she smiles, "Hand me a shirt and sweatpants too?"

"I'll see what I can find," I look into my closet to scavenge for the smallest sweatpants I could find.

I toss some drawstring pants and a V-neck over to her. "Thanks," she bites her lip. "I'll change in the bathroom."

I grin to myself. "All right, babe."

I sit on my bed. She comes back quicker that I thought, all her makeup gone and her body adorned with my clothing. My clothes practically drown her. _Adorable_. Can I cuddle her now?

"Tada!" she exclaims cheerfully with her arms spread out to me.

"You look lovely, Ella," I chuckle and embrace her tightly.

I pick her up, wrestling her onto the mattress a second time and pepper her neck with kisses while taking in the 'essence of Gabriella'. "So...beau...ti...ful," I mumble into her neck as the glorious sound is evoked from her voice box for the millionth time tonight. She instantly puts on a poker face.

"What's so special about me, Troy?" she looks into my eyes earnestly. "You said yourself, you could have any girl," she snaps her fingers, "just like that."

"You're different," my blue eyes bury themselves in her amber ones. "You're smart, feisty, sexy," I kiss her collarbone, "and... different. I love that about you. You...stand out."

"Really?" she looks at me cynically.

"Yes. _And_ your cute ass doesn't hurt either," I mumble into her ear and give her butt a light spank.

She slaps my hand away. "Troy," she whispers, "I have a flat ass."

"Not the way I see it," I shake my head as she laughs adorably. "You're perfect. _My_ kind of perfect," I whisper. I give her my winning smile. I prop myself on my elbows and kiss her forehead... before I lean in again to kiss those candy lips of hers.

_Maybe I'm your Mr. Right._  
><em>Baby, maybe I'm the one you like.<em>  
><em>Maybe I'm a shot in the dark<em>  
><em>and you're the morning light. Whoa.<em>  
><em>Maybe this is sad but true.<em>  
><em>Baby, maybe you got nothing to lose.<em>  
><em>You could be the best of me<em>  
><em>when I'm the worst for you.<em>

**- A Rocket to the Moon, "Mr. Right"**


End file.
